The Better Part of Me

Emma Swan couldn't remember a time when the strange man hadn't filled her dreams. Her first memories as a child consisted of his voice and large golden eyes observing her as she laid at night in her crib. He had always been there, as long as her memory served her. For every major moment of her life, he had talked her through it. And then other times he had been the quiet listener who merely comforted her.

Whatever the case, he was there.

He had always been there . . .

Emma currently sat at a booth in Granny's Diner, a cup of Cinnamon Hot Chocolate pressed against her palms and a blank expression covering her face. The woman's world seemed to be falling to pieces while she just sat by and watched, helplessly. But despite all of her best efforts, she had been unable to fix her mistakes. If anything they were getting worse by the second.

How had everything gotten out of hand? How had her life come to this point? Why had this happened to her?

The woman felt numb as she took yet another sip from her mug and tried to clear the cobwebs of her mind. In fact she was so lost in thought, that she didn't notice as someone took the seat opposite her and silently watched her as she tried to drink away her sorrows.

"I'm so sorry."

Emma's head snapped up as the words registered. Her large green eyes instantaneously met with two dark brown ones.

"What?" Even to her own ears, Emma sounded monotone and lifeless.

The man who sat directly in front of her gently took her smaller hands in his own and held them reverently. Then in the most sincere tone of voice Emma had ever heard escape his lips, Mr. Gold repeated, "I'm sorry, Emma."

The woman who had been fighting the urge to cry for so long felt her eyes prickle with tears.

"It's all my fault." Emma whispered, sniffing as she fought to keep her composure. "If I had only listened to him . . ."

Gold shushed her gently, and Emma was surprised by the fact that he still hadn't let go of her hand.

"This wasn't your fault." He said firmly. "Henry wouldn't want you to punish yourself. Not like this." Gold gestured his free hand to her entire body to prove his point.

Emma looked down at herself for the first time in what seemed like days; she was truly a wreck. Her long golden hair was matted and sticking up in random places, not to mention how pale she was. And her articles of clothing didn't even come close to matching. Emma's grief was there for all to see, even if she hadn't wanted it that way. Her sorrow showed in every breath she took.

Gold rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing pattern and messaged her wrist with well-worn fingers. Emma eyed him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

Gold genuinely confused, "Pardon?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" She clarified.

The man studied her for several moments, choosing his next words with care. "Let's just say, I'm invested in your future, Miss Swan, and leave it at that."

Emma shrugged off the comment and took another sip of her hot chocolate. She had known that she couldn't trust Mr. Gold to give her a straight answer. That would be too much trouble.

The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Gold asked the question Emma had been dreading.

"When's the funeral?"

"That's not up to me to decide." Emma was able to spit out. "Regina told me in no uncertain terms that she would be in charge of the . . . arrangements." As Emma choked on the word arrangements, Gold knew better than to press the topic. It was obviously a touchy subject for her.

"Come on," he said, standing up from his side of the booth. Emma looked up at him, puzzled.

"I'll take you home," he finished quietly.

Emma nodded and slowly got up as well. As she took her first steps forward her legs wobbled and she looked as if she was going to fall. Gold in one swift movement brought his arm around her waist, and pulled her back up.

The woman nodded to him in thanks, and was grateful when he didn't let go of her.

Together, Emma and Gold walked out of Granny's into the chilly evening air. Emma tucked herself into the man's side, and Gold held her there. As he placed his arm around her shoulder, she didn't move to shrug him off.

Emma tossed and turned in her bed, begging sleep to claim her. She needed sleep . . . if only to forget for a little while.

As the numbers on her digital clock changed from PM to AM, Emma cried and cuddled an object to her chest, wishing that she could turn back the hands of time.

Emma held the book with frail fingers, stroking the cover time and time again.

It wasn't just any book. It was Henry's book.

As Emma stroked the worn leather cover, she slowly began to slip off, and soon she was asleep.

The world around her was dark, but Emma didn't care, as long as he was there. If she had known his name she would have called out to him, but alas she did not. So she had no choice but to wait.

Emma stood in the center of the abyss for what seemed like years, until she felt a familiar presence approach her from behind.

The woman turned around and instantly flung herself at the shadowy figure. A sob wracked from her body with such a force that she thought she would collapse into herself.

Emma clung to the man who had always been there for her, as she succumbed to her despair.

The man held her close but never said a word as the woman broke down.

"Henry!" Emma screamed over and over again, as if saying his name would bring him back from the dead. "Henry!"

For the first time since Henry had died, Emma let go of herself completely. Here with her protector, she didn't have to hide her emotions. She didn't have to pretend anymore.

"I should have believed him," Emma sobbed. "If he hadn't felt like he had something to prove, he'd never have eaten that apple turnover!"

The man didn't object, but he didn't agree either. He just held her.

"It's all my fault . . . It's all my fault."

After what seemed like forever, Emma finally had no more tears to shed, and she slumped against the man, seeking love and solace from his thin frame.

After a moment, he spoke for the first time since he had arrived.

"He loved you, you know."

Emma looked up at him with red bloodshot eyes. "I loved him," she admitted. "More than I ever thought was possible . . . Not that it matters anymore."

The man grew dangerously stiff and quickly turned her head so that they were looking into one another's eyes. Emma cringed at the emotion she saw in those strange golden, gray eyes, but she didn't break the contact.

"Of course it matters!" He exclaimed forcefully. "Love is the one absolute in a world of darkness. Love is the most powerful magic of all!"

Emma scoffed as she rubbed her eyes. "Love isn't magic . . . It's a curse."

The man looked sad as he brushed the hair from her face with his long fingers. "You know something's wrong with the world, when people start to push away love; especially, when those who push it away have the most love to give."

Emma gave a small cry from the back of her throat and closed her weary eyes. "I've nothing to give." She whispered solemnly. "I never have."

The man held her hand in his own, gently rubbing her knuckles with this thumbs in a thoughtful, intricate pattern. "That's not true, dearie. You've already done more that you know."

Emma opened her eyes to look at the strange man once more. And she felt a small kindle of hope spark, somewhere deep within her. Like a flame within her belly.

"Really," she asked him.

The man smiled, showing off his abnormally colored teeth, "Most certainly."

As Emma studied him, she knew he was telling the truth. "Thank you."

The man kissed her forehead and a low giggle escape him.

Emma grinned for the first time in two days, at the familiar sound. She had heard him do it for almost 27 years now, and it always comforted her.

"Just promise me one thing, dearie."

"Yeah?"

"Swear to me that you'll be strong in the days to come. And that you won't let anyone lead you away from what's important."

Emma nodded, "Sure."

The strange man smiled again, a proud sort of grin. "That's my Swan Princess."

Author's Note:

This story has been brewing in my mind since the Season Finale, so I finally started writing it. I'm planing four to five chapters, but the story might be bigger in the long run, and I might have more chapters.

This is a story of 'what-if's' and healing. It's focused mainly on Emma and my take on how she would have dealt with Henry's death. (If he really had died, that is.)

Reviews are always welcome, and I would like to know if the writing was good. I felt like it was a little sloppy in places. What do you think?

~Lyn Harkeran